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DILYS 

AN INDIAN ROMANCE 


BY 

F. E. PENNY 

AUTHOB or 

**TBS BOHANOB OW A NAUTOH OIBIi,” “ THE FOBEST OFFICEB,” 
** A MIXED MABBIAOB,” “ THE SANYSA2,’' BTO, 


Copyright, 1905 

BY 

F. E. PENNY 


BUFFALO, N. Y. 

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DILYS 

AN INDIAN ROMANCE 


F. E. PENNY 

AUTHOB or 

“OTB ROMANOX OF A NAUTOH QIBIi,” “THE FOREST OFFICER, ” 
"A MIXED MARRIAGE,” “THE SAITYSAI,” BTC. 


Copyright, 1905 

BT 

F. E. PENNY 


BUFFALO, N. Y. 

i I 

1905 


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DI LYS 

CHAPTER I. 

The train drew, up in a cloud of dust. Doors 
were swung open, and streams of brown-skinned 
travellers poured from the stifliug third-class 
carriages upon the platform. 

From a Pullman car Owen Da^^enport descended 
with a deliberation that was habitual. He glanced 
up the platform, and an expression of pleasure 
came over his face as his eye caught sight of a tall, 
spare figure clothed in kharkee. It was the police 
officer of the district, Rex Garwardine, an old 
schoolfellow and friend of the new arrival. Rex 
pushed his way through the shouting, gesticulating 
crowd with good-humoured authority, and the 
people fell back with hasty deference before ‘The 
big Polliss master,^’ as they called him. 

“Hallo! Owen, old manT^ he exclaimed, as he 
gripped the other by the hand. 

After an exchange of greetings came the busi- 
ness of collecting the luggage. It was not until 
the two men were seated in the strange-hooded, 
two-wheeled vehicle, known to Rex^s household 


as the district cart, that they were able to hold any 
conversation. 

‘^It is good of you to pay me a visit like this. 
Next best to going home is to get an old friend 
from home to come and stay with one.'' 

Owen smiled as he glanced at the sunburnt face 
with its clear, grey eyes. Rex had no pretensions 
to good looks, yet the feminine eye lingered with 
something like approval upon his features, and 
men gave him their confidence uninvited. 

^*1 hate wearing virtues that don^t belong to me. 
They make itie feel uncomfortable, like other men^s 
clothes. To be honest, I proposed paying you this 
visit more in my own interests than yours. 

Rex laughed outright. ‘The same old Ovren!^^ 
he cried, with keen enjo3unent at the close touch 
of far away schooldays. ‘T remember how you 
used to say the most outrageous things at Rugby 
with that saving preface ‘to be honest.^ We 
couldnT punch your head for being rude because 
you claimed such virtue in speaking honestly. 
Well, what is it?'' 

There was a slight pause before the reply came. 

“An heiress." 

“A what?" shouted Rex, bringing his eyes from 
the country-bred mare to his friend's fair, Saxon 
face. 

“A real bona fide heiress." 

“We don't grow them in these parts," said the 
police officer, flicking the mare with his whip as 


she suddenly checked her smooth trot at sight of 
a village pig by the roadside. 

^^Oh yes, you do. I have all the details at my 
fingers^ ends. I may as well tell you at once that 
she is here — here, in Cuddalore, to the best of my 

belief, and that I am here to find her and ” 

he paused, leaving the sentence unfinished. 

^^Yes, and what else?^' 

^To be honest A laugh from hi^s friend 

caused him to hesitate. What he was about to 
tell was not quite fair upon himself, yet there was 
just enough truth in it to impel a man of his nature 
to say it. He finished with a jerk — and to marry 
her.^^ 

And again the eye of the policeman 
swept the features of his guest. 

They were crossing the river, a narrow ribbon of 
dazzling blue upon a bed of golden sand. 

^Tull up a minute, and let me have* a look at the 
country, said Owen. 

The liver ran eastward to the sea., which was 
not more than a mile away. Its banks were flat, 
and where the tides and storm-waves did not reach, 
they were covered with palm-groves and giant 
grasses. In a cold, grey atmosphere the scene 
would have been dreary and depressing ; but under 
the tropical light of a South Indian sun, the land- 
scape was full of colour. The newcomer gazed 
across the yellow sands ad the gleaming water and, 
azure sky until he was well-nigh blinded. 


^‘Over there is the old ruined Fort/^ said ' Rex, 
pointing to the right with his whip. 

“Uninhabited in the present day, I presume?^^ 

“Except for myself. My house is built on the 
earthworks overlooking the river. It is a little 
way from the cantonment, and has a reputation 
for fever which it does not deserve. It suits nie in 
more ways than one.^’ 

They passed over the bridge, and drove on under 
the shade of noble trees. Between the cantonm_ent 
and the sea stretched an open maidan. It was 
dotted with white tents. 

“Troops, I see,^^ remarked Owen. “Are they 
English or native 

“English; they have been sent here from Banga- 
lore to get them out of the way of plague. The 
commandant is a nice fellow, pleasant and sociable. 
But I say, Owen, what about this heiress? Is she 
native or Eurasian?'^ 

“Neither; she is English as far as birth is con- 
cerned, and as pure-blooded as I am. It is a most 
romantic story. 

“We will have it when we get in’^ 

They left the white tents behind, crossed a 
swampy watercourse, and passed along a smooth 
carriage drive between some low mounds, where 
here and there a piece of broken masonry crumbled 
half hidden under rank herbage. The bungalow, 
embowered in trees, looked out upon the still 
waters of the lagoon. A quarter of a mile away 


the sea broke iiioiiotono^ly upon a sandy shore,* 
that was peculiarly desolate and deserted. Owen 
looked round as he climbed* down from the dog- 
cart. 

Where is the Fort?^^ 

^‘Gone long ago, as far as keep and drawbridge 
are concerned. All that remains of Fort St; 
David are these earthworks that you see about the 
place. Daily ^s guns knocked the Fort into a 
eocked hat nearly a century and a half ago. But 
come along inside; you must be dying for a drink 
after the heat and glare.'' 

It was refreshingly cool within the wails of the 
bungalow. Curtains of Indian muslin swung to 
and fro in the moist breeze that blew in from the 
sea, and there was no need of punkah. Doors and 
windows opened on to deep verandas that stretched 
out into the shade of the long-armed bayan-trees. 
A shrubbery of crotons and panax bushes nestled 
close up to the walls of the house, providing a 
wealth of colour with their gold and crimson foliage 
and soft, feathery green. The sea-breeze brought 
on its wings the boom of the sea, with occasionalh’ 
the plaintive cry of a water-bird. A sigh of con- 
tentment escaped Owen's lips as he put down his 
glass. 

^Wou must amuse yourself till dinner. I have a 
lot of work to do," said his host, as he left the room 
for the office. 

Dinner was over, and the servants had departed 


to take their own meal at the back of the house^ 
Owen^ extended at full length upon a grass-hopper 
couch in the verandah, lighted his cigarette in 
leisurely fashion. His story was yet untold. One 
thing at a time, was his rule in life. In some 
respects it was a good rule ; it ensured the thorough 
performance of the task of the moment. But there 
were occasions when the attention had to be 
divided, when the grasp had to be right and left, 
or the opportunity was lost for ever. On these 
occasions Owen failed where a man of greater 
readiness would have succeeded. Being possessed 
of private means, his failures were of no conse- 
quence, except so far as his pride was concerned. 

^^Now about this heiress. I will tell you her 
story, and then you must give me your help and 
advice.^^ 

^‘In my official capacity or as a friend?'’ 

^^Wait till you have heard what I have to say.'^ 

This was the story which he told. There was a 
Cornishman named Tregethin. He was the 
younger son of a younger son, and had to work 
for his living. Mining was the profession that he 
chose, and, when his training was finished, he was 
tempted to accept the offer of employm_ent in a 
new mine which was being opened up in the 
Wynaad in South India. He knew nothing about 
Wynaad, except what the prospectus of the new 
mine could tell him. By diligent inquiry he 
further learned that it was a district in which 


coffee grew; that the climate was cool and pleas-" 
ant, though apt to be feverish .at certain seasons. 
The salary was handsome, and for the present he 
was to be manager and chief engineer. Under the 
circumstances Tregethin felt justified in mariying 
the girl of his choise before he mailed. 

The young bride, full of hope and happiness, was 
charmed with all she saw. Life in camp on the 
wild hills delighted her. The tropical forest with 
its wealth of vegetation, the birds and butterflies, 
and the strange people who gathered round the 
camp never ceased to interest her. Added to this 
there was the new bungalow which was being 
built under her e3^es, and which bid fair to become 
as pretty a house as the feminine heart could 
desire. It was surrounded by a garden, with, a 
wonderful virgin soil that grew flowers and vege- 
tables as if by magic. 

‘Uaptain'^ Tregethin, as he called himself, after 
the manner of mining managers, was not quite so 
well satisfied with his department. The mine 
which looked so well in the prospectus, v/as in its 
earliest infancy of shaft-sinking and shed-building. 
He and his wife were the only Europeans. The 
rest of his staff consisted of a Eurasian clerk or 
two, a dozen native maistries, and a couple of 
hundred coolies. He threw himself into his work, 
determined that it should not be his fault if it 
failed. And he wrote frequently to Bombay, urg- 
ing the more speedy despatch of machinery and 


plant. The delays were not to be accounted for 
by the difficulties of transport, and there came 
periods when, for want of the necessary machinery, 
he found it impossible to keep his coolies employed. 

Time passed, and Mrs. Tregethin, established 
comfortably in her new house, was happy enough 
in the prospect of motherhood. There was no 
doctor within reach, but this did not trouble her 
nor the busy husband. Attended only by the 
native apothecary and the ayah, she became the 
mother of a daughter, whom Tregethin baptized 
himself under the name of Dilys. For a week all 
seemed to be going well with mother and child. 
Then fever suddenly set in, and a fortnight later 
a broken-hearted husband buried his wife amongst 
the Persian roses in the garden. 

Just at that time some long-expected machinery 
arrived, and Tregethin was obliged to be at the 
works all day. He had no time to listen to the 
complaints of the ayah, w^ho wailed over the 
pining infant, crying that it would die if a foster- 
mother w^as not found for it. There were no native 
villages nor bazaars within reach — nothing but the 
mining camp of w^orkers, and though it contained 
a few women, none of them happened to be 
qualified for the duties of foster-mother. 

The machinery had been brought up by a gang 
of Lumbadees. They are the gipsies of India, and 
are also known as Brinjarees. They are a w^ander- 
ing tribe, who do transport work among the hills 


where there are no roads. Their, sturdy little 
bullocks possess something of the nature of goats 
in their power of climbing. They pass along wild 
hill paths and through forests, where the way is 
nothing but a game track. In the swampy valleys 
they pick out with unerring instinct a firm footway 
over the spongy ground. The Lumbadees are 
great thieves, yet they possess some strange traits 
of honesty. The fidelity with which they keep their 
word is a matter of history, and they are scrupu- 
lously honest over all goods committed to their 
charge. They possess a breed of dogs of a sandy 
or grey colour. The dogs have shaggy coats, and 
are larger in size than the old-fashioned English 
sheep dogs. They are not kept by an}'" other caste ; 
like the poligars^ animals, though faithful to death 
to their own masters, they are too ready to fight, 
and are treacherous and savage tow^ards strangers. 

Amongst the gang of gipsies that brought up 
the machinery was a young woman who had just 
lost her baby. The ayah, with the maternal 
instincts of her race, endeavoured to secure her 
services. She made the woman a handsome offer 
of clothes and money to take the situation of 
iamah, and reside at the bungalow^ for a year. But 
nothing would induce the gipsy w^oman to approach 
the residence of an Englishman. Her husband, 
she vowed, would kill her if she entered the house. 
The ayah solved the difficulty by carrying the 
child to the Lumbadee’s camp. The foster-mother 


= took to the little one with all the love that should 
have been bestowed upon her own. She even 
gained courage sufficiently to meet the ayah near 
the house at stated times. Late at nighty early in 
the morning before the cuckoos and barbets had 
begun to call^ the foster-mother was waiting for 
her charge. But never once did she venture under 
the roof of the Englishman. Ten days later, when 
the bullocks were rested, the Lumbadees began to 
stir. They were anxious to depart, and the foster- 
mother must needs go with them. 

The ayah was in despair; she offered money 
and jewels; she begged, coaxed and threatened, 
but all in vain. Her husband would not hear of 
it. The woman would have stayed, for she had 
grown fond of the fair-skinned, smiling baby; but 
the tribe backed her husband^s decree and made 
it inexorable. The evening before the departure 
of the gipsies the ayah and the woman had a long 
and earnest talk. xA^fterv^ards the ayah sought her 
master. 

^^Sir, the Lumbadee w^oman will not stay.^^ 

“Have you promised money and jewels?'' 

“Yes, sir, and she would accept them if she 
could, for she loves the little one; but her people 
say no." 

“Then, what are we to do?" asked the forlorn 
widower, utterly at a loss to know what course to 
pursue. The milk of the cows fed upon the rank 
herbage of the hills would be poison to his tiny 
daughter. 


The ayah looked at him with swimming eyes. 
^'Sir, the baby will die if she loses the Lumbadee 
mother/' 

know that/' he replied, irritably. 

^^But the Lumbadee mother, though she is 
obliged to go, will continue to give her services if 
master will let baby go too." 

'With the Lumbadees?" he almost shouted in 
his astonishment. 

"It is the only way. And what harm can come 
if I go with the child? The woman promises faith- 
fully that she will take care of me and the baby, 
and we will come back in eighteen months with 
the little missie, a strong, English child." 

So the ayah pleaded, whilst the distracted 
father listened. Gradually she conquered his 
scruples, and wrung from him a consent given 
against his better judgment. Poor man! It 
seemed to him that a cruel fate had left him no 
choice. It was that, or pronouncing the death- 
warrant of his child. 

The gipsies departed wdth their picturesque 
string of bullocks ; one animal was loaded with the 
clothes so carefully prepared by the fingers now" 
lying stiff and cold in the grave under the rose 
bushes in the garden. Tregethin w^atched the 
party with a heavy heart as men and cattle trailed 
over the hills, dipping into the moist still valleys, 
climbing by winding paths over the crests of the 
breezy hills, till the last bright, blue cloth and 3’eL 
low string of cowries was lost in the distant 


CHAPTER II. 


Davenport having arrived at this point of his 
story, relapsed into silence as though the tale was 
ended. Rex handed him the box of cigars and 
called to his servant to bring soda-water and ice. 
The sea-breeze blew fresh and cool through the 
verandah rustling the leaves of the crotons. The 
flying-foxes quarrelled greedily over the figs on 
the banyan trees, and from the camp on the maidan 
came the sound of the distant bugle. 

‘Well, and has this child turned out to be an 
heiress 

“Yes; a mortality in the Tregethin family 
during the last few years has left her the sole sur- 
vivor of her generation.’^ 

“And now you want to find her?” 

“That’s it.” 

“If she is alive.” 

“Oh, she is alive all right,” replied Owen, as he 
gave his undivided attention to the lighting of his 
cigar, and then proceeded to superintend the mix- 
ing of a whisky and soda. Rex waited, knowing 
of old that his friend was not to be hurried. “Yes, 
she exists right enough. Tregethin had a sister 
younger than himself, with whom he corresponded 
at long intervals. He told her of the birth of the 


child and the subsequent death of the mothef/ 
He added that the baby had been put out to nurse^ 
with the ayah to look after it^ and that the foster- 
mother was a gipsy woman. Then followed a long 
silence at the end of which she learned that her 
brother was dead. She wrote to the secretary of 
the closed mine, asking for information about the 
child, but could get none. A few years later she 
married. Her husband was the owner of a coffee 
estate in Mysore; and chance thus brought her to 
India and to a district adjoining that in which 
Tregethin had laboured. No sooner had she 
arrived than she renewed her inquiries, visiting the 
hospital where he died, interviewing doctor and 
nurse, questioning them closely as to his last hours 
and supposed delirous statements; Then she made 
a pilgrimage to the mine. The camp was not easy 
to find, for the jungle had grown to the roofs of 
the sheds. White ants and rust had been busy in 
the bungalow and the place v/as enmeshed with 
creepers; not a human soul had visited it for years; 
The wild pigs and monkies were in undisturbed 
possession and seemed likely to remain sO; 

^^She didnT succeed, then, in finding the child 
asked Rex. 

^‘Mrs. Myrtle was a woman of perseverance. 

She went back to her husband^s estate nothing 
daunted, and set her woman^s wit to work. With 
the help of her ayah as interpreter, she questioned 
every cooly that set foot upon the estate. From 


a West-coast man she heard of a tribe of gipsies 
who had with them a fair-skinned child supposed 
to be a Mahratta or Tyar foundling. These Lum- 
badees had gone north into the Konkanee country, 
said the cooly, because of some trouble with the 
police over the smuggling of sandalwood from 
Mysore to the West coast.'' 

^ Those gipsy fellows are born smugglers. I have 
something to do with them myself between here 
and Pondicherry, smuggling French brandy and 
perfumes," said Rex, who was deeply interested. 

^^Are there any of the tribe here now?" asked 
Davenport. 

saw some with a string of bullocks carrying 
ground-nuts only yesterday. The French ship the 
nuts — roots they ought to be called — to the conti- 
nent to help in the manufacture of salad oil." 

^The Lumbadees were not altogether strangers 
to the coffee-planter, and at the very first appear- 
ance on the estate of their blue cloths and cowrie 
ornaments, Mrs. Myrtle got speech with them. 
They consented to be the bearers of a message, 
should they ever meet any members of the tribe 
that possessed the so-called Tyar child. The 
message was simple but to the point. Toster- 
mother of the Englishman's daughter, keep faith 
with the father and bring his child to the Chief 
Magistrate of Mysore city.'" 

^^She should have put in into the hands of the 
police," said Rex. 


the contrary, it was the police whom th© 
Lumbadees were endeavouring to avoid; and hef 
method proved successful. One day the Brahmin 
magistrate saw a Immbadee child of about seven 
years of age standing in his verandah. She talked 
a strange mixture of gipsy language, Tamil and 
Malayalum. It was Dilys Tregethin. The Lumba- 
dees had brought her back true to their trust ; but 
they took care not to show themselves, for they 
still feared that the police might make it dis- 
agreeable for the gang.^^ 

^^How could Mrs. Myrtle identify her?^’ asked 
the police officer. 

>The gipsies returned with the child some 
remnants of European clothing and a small gold 
locket containing a photograph of Tregethin. 
This trinket the ayah had hung around the baby^^ 
neck soon after the mothei^’s death, and it wa§ 
carefully preserved, probabl}^ under the impression 
that it was a charm of some kind. Mrs. Myrtle 
was perfectly satisfied that it was her brother^^ 
long-lost daughter. Having no children of her 
own she took Dilys to her heart at once.^^ 

“She must have been a strange little creature to 
be suddenly admitted into a well-ordered English 
household. How did Miss Tregethin take to the 
new life?^^ 

“She soon settled down and learned to wear 
English clothing, to eat her food like a civilized 
being and to speak in her mother tongue. When 


she was ten years old Mrs. Myrtle sent her to the 
nuns at Pondicherry to be educated under French 
governess, and she spent her holidays on the estate; 
very happy times they were, too, according to poor 
Mrs. Myrtle^s account. 

^ ^Apparently you have found your heiress and 
she is safely sheltered under the wing of a motherly 
relative, remarked Rex. 

^^My tale is not quite finished, replied his 
deliberate friend. ^‘At the age of seventeen she 
left school with a knowledge of French and Eng- 
lish as well as the native tongues of her childhood, 
which, living in India as she didy she never lost. 
Six months after she went to live with the Myrtles^ 
she became heiress to a considerable sum of money, 
her aunt having a life interest in part of it. Now 
this is the curious part of my story. On coming 
into this property the Myrtles’ decided to sell their 
estate in Mysore and to retire to England, taking 
Miss Tregethin with them. 


CHAPTER III. 

The town of Cu4dalore on the Coromandel coast 
is a little more than a hundred miles south of 
Madras. The district of Arcot in which it stands 
is mostly flat, producing grain, indigo, sugar-cane 
and ground-nuts. An old trunk road from north 
to south passes through the cantonment and town^ 
running parallel with the railway. The scenery 
has a charra of its own. Avenues of hoary old 
trees, stretches of emerald rice-fields, gleaming 
sheets of water, villages, palm-groves and casua- 
rina plantations, with here and there uncultivated 
patches of rock and cactus, vary the landscape. 
The tropical sun steeps everything in rich colours, 
rosy at morn, golden at noon, and purple at sunset. 
Between the old town and the cantonment runs 
the Gudalam river, a thread of blue in the dry 
weather, and a raging torrent of brown, .muddy 
water in the rains. 

The Europeans employed in the service of 
Government live in the cantonment on the north 
side of the river. The old town on the south side 
is the abode of the native population. In addition 
to the Hindoos and Mahomedans, there is a little 
colony of Europeans and Eurasians. The Eng- 
lishmen are mostly old soldiers who have taken 


their pensions and have elected to spend the rest 
of their lives in the country. The attraction is 
usually a native or Eurasian wife together with a 
natural liking for the luxuries of the tropics, a 
plentiful supply of cheap food and liquor, and 
cheap servants and house rent. The poorest 
European or Eurasian can obtain the services of 
a kitchen servant in return for his food. 

John Brand and Ben Bullen were two pen- 
sioners who had adopted this course. They served 
the Company and afterwards the Queen for many 
years in the same regiment. Bullen belonged to 
Suffolk, and the accent of the Eastern counties 
still hung about his speech, especially in moments 
of excitement. He had married a native woman 
who mad^ him an excellent wife, and had borne 
him a large family. 

Brand was bred and born in London, a towns- 
man to the tip of his fingers. In days gone by he 
had been the smartest sergeant in the regiment. 
There promotion stopped, for Brand had a little 
weakness which militated against his advancement 
in life. To use his own expression, he was occa- 
sionally ^^overtook.^^ It did not happen often, 
but when it did, he was noisy and troublesome; 
and though his servant did his best to screen his 
master, the truth leaked out, and Brand climbed 
the regimental ladder no higher. 

Bullen and Brand formed a friendship which 
proved to be life-long. They banded together 


with four others and shared the services of a native 
servant whom they called Rammersammy, short- 
ened sometimes to Sammy. He cleaned their 
accoutrements, and waited on them ‘‘just as if 
they were lords/’ to quote their own words, and 
all for the sum of six rupes a month. Ramaswamy 
attached himself especially to Brand, who under- 
took to train him. It was admitted by all his 
comrades that Brand knew better than any of 
them how a gentleman’s servant should behave, 
having occupied that position himself before he 
joined the ranks. No one could accuse him of 
shirking his task; he spared no pains in teaching 
Ramaswamy how to brush, clean, and polish, how 
to fold and put away clothes, and how to lay them 
out ready for use. Like all native servants, the 
man was flattered by the unremitting attention 
and interest shown in his work. He rose to the 
occasion, and took as great a pride in his success as 
was evinced by his instructor. He became the 
smartest “boy” in the barracks, and was the envy 
of all the other syndicates of masters. If there 
was one thing in which he excelled above all others, 
it was in his manner and mode of address. Brand 
managed to instil into him something of the quiet 
alertness of a first-class valet, who anticipates 
without obtrusiveness his master’s wants. And 
he taught him to use the honorific “sir” freely. 
It became “sar” in Ramaswamy ’s mouth, and the 
sound of it was music in the ears of his masters* 


When^ in the courBe of years, one by one of his 
employers departed, Bnllen to be married, and 
the others with the regiment to England, Rama- 
swamy remained contentedly with Brand, follow- 
ing him into private life. Wages were at first 
scantily and irregularly paid, but in addition to 
the bond of attachment between master and man, 
there were compensations which made life worth 
living to the servant grown old in his master^s 
service. 

Brandis favourite pursuit was fishing in the 
Gudalam. The old man might often be seen 
wending his way to the river, wearing shirt and 
trousers and a pith hat. His feet were bare, and 
he carried a large creel slung across his shoulders 
after the fashion of all enthusiastic anglers. 
Fishing-rods and a box of bait completed his 
outfit. 

When he went to ask for his mail letters at the 
post-office on the arrival of the English mail, 
letters which never came; or when he walked to 
the Kutchery to receive his pension, his appear- 
ance was very different; for Brand was a dandy 
in his way. On retirement from the service in 
place of the smart uniform of his sovereign, he 
adopted a neat suit of white duck, which was as 
becoming to his dapper little figure as the white 
drill regulation jacket. The same care was ob- 
served in making his toilette as when he dressed 
for parade. A spotless shirt and collar, a clean 


suit, and a satin tie were laid out by the careful 
Ramaswamy, who helped his master into them 
when the barber had finished his work. The 
brown canvas shoes were neatly tied; a gold 
signet ring and a silver-topped cane, produced 
from some secret hiding-place known only to 
Ramaswamy, completed the costume, which in 
Bullen^s eyes at least made Brand ‘‘quite the 
gentleman. 

Having made his toilette. Brand seated himself 
pn a chair in the verandah, and waited until 
Ramaswamy had assumed a blue cotton coat, a 
turban of white muslin, and some stiff starched 
drapery falling in giant folds round his thin old 
legs. As he emerged from the smoky den at the 
back of the house, which served as kitchen and 
dwelling. Brand usually greeted him with the 
query, “Made yourself quite clean like a gentle- 
man^s servant?’^ 

“Yes, sar.’' 

“Then come along, boy.^’ And they started for 
the Kutchery, followed by the admiring eyes of 
the town^s-people, who thought Mr. “Berrand,” 
as they called him, as great a personage as the 
Government officer himself. The Englishman 
walked in front, whilst his servant trotted at a 
respectful distance behind, keeping . sufficiently 
near to be able to hear his master should he desire 
to hold any conversation. At the Kutchery he 
found Bullen, who had come on the same errands 


The two pensioners were well known to Mr. 
Hensley. He had a liking for them both, and 
seldom let them go without having a chat. Brand 
did most of the talking, whilst Bullen listened in 
admiration of his friend^s powers of conversation 
so far exceeding his own. After signing the receipt, 
the money was handed to them. Bullen put his 
into his trousers^pocket in true British style ; but 
Brand, with a lofty gesture, handed the cash to 
his servant, and then stood at attention in his 
best regimental manner to hear Mr. Hensley^s 
remarks. Every pay-day the same little scene 
was enacted with variations according to the time 
at the disposal of the collector. The topics dis- 
cussed were the old regimental days, the wicked- 
ness of the natives with the general degeneracy of 
the times, and the increasing impudence of the 
Hindoos. 


CHAPTER IV* 

It was mail day — that is to say, the day on which 
the weekly English mail was expected. Delivery 
by the native postman, known as the post-peon^, 
was slow and uncertain. When there was a heavy 
bag, he used his own judgment in the distribution 
of it. Having delivered the usual quantity of 
letters, he was apt to retain the surplus for the 
next day^s round. The English residents of 
Cuddalore preferred to send their own peons for 
their letters. Other inhabitants, native as well as 
Eurasian, who did not possess peons, went in 
person if they had reason to think that any of their 
friends had been writing.. But the native of India 
is not addicted to correspondence other than what 
is necessary to business, and the towns-people of 
Cuddalore had little business that required the 
assistance of the post. 

On the arrival of the English mail following that 
which brought Owen Davenport, the customary 
group gathered round the post-office waiting for 
the letters to be given out. The belted servants 
of the judge, the collector, and other ^civilians, 
each bearing a leather post-bag, were seated under 
the shade of the tamarind tree, leaving the veran- 
dah of the post-office bungalow to the Europeans 
and Eurasians. 


have visitors/^ announced Babajee, Mr. 
Hensley’s servant. 

'^Sent on to your master from Madras by 
Government?” asked the judge’s peon. 

“Not this time; they are friends of the Missie^ 
They travelled out on the same ship with her, and 
being pleasant gentlemen, \he Missie asked them 
to visit her father.” 

“Perhaps she has chosen one for her husband, 
instead of the Poliss officer?” 

“Babajee shook his head negatively. “The 
Missie laughs too much to be thinking of marriag.e 
She is always making fun. Only yesterday, she 
turned the laughter of the house against the cook. 
Even the master smiled when he heard the tale. 
The cook is a good man, and pleases the master 
with his dishes. But when all his work is done, he 
likes his arrack and his pipe as we do.” 

His listeners wagged their heads in unanimous 
approval of the sentiment. 

“Last evening, after dinner was finished, the 
visitors, who are strange men with unEnglish ways, 
asked if they might have some hot soup at mid- 
night. The Missie took a tin from the store-room 
and went herself to the kitchen to tell the cook 
how to warm the soup. By that time he had 
smoked his pipe, and drunk his arrack. It was not 
to be supposed that he could understand what the 
Missie said. She called the ayah. ‘What is this?’ 
she asked. That owl of a w^oman, instead of reply^ 


ing that he was sick with fever, told the Missk 
that he had been drinking arrack. It was foolish 
of the cook to deny the woman milk for her coffee.’^ 
^Was the Missie angry?’’ 

A broad grin illumined the face of Babajee as he 
continued — 

‘^Our Missie is never angry. She made furl only. 
She called me and Marava, and directed us to take 
the cook to the Pound, together wih his mat and 
blanket, and he slept the night there; the Pound 
peon having orders not to let him depart until he 
should pay the fee of a donkey. His wife took the 
money this morning, and the cook goes about with 
a ball of fire in his belly. He will not take his ease 
again for the future until the Mis. ie is safe in bed.’^ 
^^Why did the strange gentlemen require hot 
^They are poochee-catchers. They catch beetles 
and flies of all sorts; flower-flies, fruit-flies, even 
loathsome creeping-flies and worms, which they 
shut in boxes and send to Germany. After dinner^ 
they go forth with muslin bags and lanterns. The 
flies come towards the light and get entangled in 
the waving bags. Then they come home and 
equire soup and beer.^’ 

^^What is the meaning of this madness?” 
^^Henri, their Pondicherry butler, says that it is 
done by order of the German Emperor. The 
flower-flies are to adorn the walls of his daughter’s 
bridal chamber; the loathsome flies and worms 
are for the manufacture of spells and potions 
against the enemies of the ERperor. 


^^ShuhT’ said a voice behind them. They 
turned to see Naga, the police peon, who held the 
coveted post of messenger in Carwardine^s office. 
He had come up in time to hear the last sentence 
or two. 

^^Ho! Naga, you are late this morning.^’ 

^^So is the mail/^ replied the young man. His 
dark blue uniform, and neat turban to match, gave 
him a smart military appearance, of which he was 
fully conscious- but his pride was literally in his 
boots. He^ only, of all the peons in the canton- 
ment, wore boots. They were large and of heavy 
regulation make, and they creaked like a cavalry 
saddle. Naga gloried in their music, which, by an 
elaborate bending of the foot, he developed to its 
fullest extent. 

^ ‘Where is your post-bag?^ ^ 

“The master is calling for the letters himself 
this morning.^’ 

“Wherefore?’’ asked three or four of the men 
at once. 

“I know not, so I came to see. He sent me with 
a note to the Collector’s Missie, and I am on my 
way back. He is dining to-night at your house,” 
he concluded, addressing himself to Babajee. 

“Then he will see the poochee-catchers.” 

“Shuh! they are not only catchers of poochees.” 

“Then what are they if not?” Surely all day 
and half the night they hunt for flies.” 

“There are other things to be found besides 
flies,” said Naga, mysteriously. 


^^What?^^ eagerly chorused his hearers. 

But the young man would not commit himself, 

^'That is our business/' he replied. ‘‘My master 
has orders to watch them." 

“Was the order given by Government?" 

“It came by telegraph." 

“No such order has been sent through the 
telegraph, or we should have heard of it from 
Naraswamy. He writes the messages ^s the clerk 
reads them off the machine." 

“You know nothing of what goes on in our 
office," said Naga, contemptuously. “Let every 
man mind his own works and see to the weeds in 
his own garden. The telegrams which my master 
receives tell the world one thing, but speak to him 
of other matters. Three mornings ago came a 
wire from the Commissioner of Police, Madras. 
The words were “two nineteen." The master read 
it, tore it in pieces, and threw it in the waste-paper 
basket where we found it. It was only necessary 
to watch what was done that day to discover the 
meaning of the message. As soon as my father^ 
the head constable, came to the office, he talked 
with him in a low voice. Later, I saw my father^ 
with two of his men who were without uniform, go 
towards the Garden house. He spoke to Abdub 
the butler, and the men remained to work in the 
garden and help the tent lascars. Shuh! What 
does all this mean but that, the police officer has 
orders to watch the catchers of poochees, and 


report what they do and how they pass their tittie 
night and day.’^ 

A circle of natives had gathered round the peons, 
and were listening with absorbing interest to the 
conversation. Amongst them was Ramaswamy, 
whose master in full dress had arrived at the post- 
office to inquire for letters. The blue-coated figure 
took a step forward and asked — 

^ Where have they come from?^^ 

‘They say they are from Bombay, but their 
luggage bears railway labels of Lahore, Rangoon, 
and Pondicherry.’^ 

“The world contains but one liar, and that is 
the human tongue. Their boxes tell truer words 
than their speech,” cried Naga, with a laugh, in 
which the assembly joined* 


CHAPTER V. 


The old ruined fort at Cuddalore is a relic of th^ 
past. Before the English obtained a foothold 
upon the Coromandel coast, a rich Hindoo mer- 
chant fixed upon the spot where it stands for the 
erection of his warehouses. He threw up earth- 
works to protect himself from robbers, and 
mounted some cannon upon the rude fortifications 
to keep the marauding horsemen of the Mahrattas- 
at a distance. His country ships came over the 
river bar with merchandise from the Ganges, from 
Siam, from Ceylon, and even from China and 
Persia. The goods were sent inland by the aid of 
the Brinjarees, and a lucrative market was found 
on the plateau of Mysore. 

Then came the Dutch and English merchantsh 
disputing, with commercial jealousy, each other^e 
right to be there. The Hindoo merchant’s de^ 
scendants, alarmed at the approach of fresh hordes 
of Mahrattas on the land side, and of a strang- 
white people from the sea, packed up their wealts 
of gold and jewels accumulated by their father 
and departed South, where they would be secure 
from foreign traders and inland thieves. 

When the English merchants asked, at the end 
of the seventeenth century, for a domicile in 


Cuddalore, the reigning Rajah offered them the 
deserted fort. They readily agreed to pay the sum 
demanded, in exchange for which they were to 
have the ruined warehouses and fortifications 
which surrounded them, together with as much 
land as could be covered by ^Tandom^’ cannon- 
balls fired from the ramparts. 

The chief gunner, with his guns of longest range, 
was sent over from Fort St. George, Madras, and 
was directed by the shrewd old merchants of the 
East India Company to enclose as much land as 
possible with his ''random shot.’’ The shot were 
marked down and the boundary line drawn. The 
villages thus enclused are still known as the 
"Cannon-ball villages.” 

The fort was repaired and strengthened. Ware- 
hdiises and dwellings were rebuilt. Quarters for a 
garrison were erected, and a market was opened 
for the products of the district. Its walls echoed 
to the sound of the bugle, the hum of busy voices 
the chant of stalwart porters, and the grunt of the 
transport bullocks belonging to the gipsies. 

On the coast between Cuddalore and Madras 
lies the French settlement of Pondicherry. The 
eyes of the French merchants turned greedily upon 
the prosperous English traders ; Dupleix, the 
ambitious Governor of Pondicherry, dreamed 
dreams of greatness, which at one period seemed 
likely to be realized. At his bidding Tally, with 
his troops, appeared before Cuddalore in 1758, and 
took the town and the fort. 


Before the end of the eighteenth century Fort 
St. David was so damaged by the varying fortunes 
of war, that it was considered beyond repair; and 
the twentieth century finds it a mere mass of ruins, 
partially hidden under rank vegetation. The 
earthworks remain with their old casemates and 
bomb-proof rooms. Subterranean ways run com- 
pletely round the fort under these earthworks. 
At short interwals galleries, which formerly led to 
powder-chambers, branch off from the encircling 
passages. It would require a bold man indeed to 
penetrate their unillumined depths. Here and 
there the masonry has fallen, blocking the way; 
but it forms no impediment to the present inhab- 
itants, the snakes, rats, scorpions, bats, lizards 
and centipedes, that have the tunnels all to themr 
selves. , 

The only bungalow built upon this once busy 
spot was occupied by Rex Carwardine. It stood 
upon the south-east bastion, facing the river 
Trees of a century and a half old clustered round 
it, and a wild tangled garden of flowering shrubs 
and plants stretched from the very walls of the 
house down to the rank marshy growth that 
bordered the river. The carriage-drive passed out 
on the north side, where there had formerly been 
a massive gate and guard-room. 

As Rex and Owen drove through the opening 
to reach the road on their way to Soobarow^s 
house, they passed the two pensioners, who were 


turning itito the fort/ The figure of Brand in his 
fishing costume was familiar enough to the police 
officer, who frequently caught sight of him strol- 
ling about with his bundle of fishing-rods on the 
banks of the river below the garden, or upon the 
opposite shore where the cocoa-nut palms fringed 
the water. He was usually accompanied by his 
servant, wfio carried a large basket on his head to 
hold the fish. To-day Brand had made no change 
in his dress. Both he and Bullen wore the same 
suit, in which they had called at the post-office a 
couple of hours earlier. 

Rex pulled up with an inquiring glance. “Were 
you coming to see me?^’ he asked. 

“N-no„ sir,^’ replied Bullen, with a slight em- 
barrassment of manner. 

“You are not going fishing to-day. Brand?’’ he 
continued, glancing at the signet ring and malacca 
cane. 

“Not this morning; but 1 shall be out on the 
river this afternoon. We are just strolling round 
for a chat and a smoke ; and I am going to show 
this lazy beggar where 1 catch the eels he's so fend 
of. It’s down by the south-east cciner cl the I cit 
near where the river goes into the sea, not very far 
from your house, sir.” 

“If you take any- good sea fish. Brand, I shoul 
be much obliged if you would let me have a dish; 
But I don’t care for anything that comes out of 
the river, as you know.” 


Brandis eyes twinkled and the fragment of a 
smile hovered under his moustache. 

‘^There are as good fish in that river as ever came 
out of the sea, and they give a great deal miore 
sport than the sea fish. I could sell half a hundred- 
weight a day to the fellows in camp, if I had the 
time to catch them. Theyh’e wonderfully fond of 
fish, aren’t they, Ben?” 

His companion, who was lost in admiration of 
his friend’s flow of speech, allowed his lips to 
widen into a grin of amusement^ as he replied^ — 

‘'Ah, bor; you’re right. They fare as if the}^ 
couldn’t live without Mr. Brand’s fish, sir,” he 
concluded, summoning up his courage to take a 
part in the conversation. 

“What’s the matter with the river fish,” asked 
Owen. 

“They have a muddy flavour,” answered Rex. 

“They don’t all taste alike, sir; and if you take 
a drop of brandy with them you can’t taste the 
mud in the least,” said Brand, addressing himself 
to Davenport. 

“I wish there was no such thing as brandy in the 
world,” remarked Rex, as he drove on and left the 
old soldiers chuckling with amusement. They 
watched him out of sight before they continued 
their way. 

“Why should you dislike its existence?” 

“It is giving us no end of trouble with the troops. 
How those men in camp m_anage to get hold of it 


puzzles us all. Men^ who were perfectly sober 
before they came here, have been found quite over- 
come. Major Adamson is much annoyed and 
worried, as it sends so many men into the hospital 
tents, to say nothing of the guard-room.^’ 

^‘Why does it send them into hospital.” 

^^They are overcome and lie down to sleep 
where the sun falls upon them; then they have 
fever and liver.” 

^^The suppl}^ should be stopped? Where do they 
get it.” 

^That apparently is a mystery. Of course, 
some is taken at the canteen and some at the arrack 
shops in the bazaar ; but we cannot find any cases 
of excessive drinking at either places. If the men 
have nothing more than they buy there, all I can 
say is, that they must have uncommonly weak 
heads, if they are upset to the extent Major Adam- 
son reports!” 

^^What have you to do with it?” 

“He has asked me to set a watch upon the men 
and on the places they frequent; but so far I can 
find out nothing— absolutely nothing.” 


- CHAPTER VL 


have not met with much success so far/^ 
remarked Davenport, as he and Rex drove towards 
the contonment. suppose that the attraction 
to the soldiers is that nice little half-caste gir{/^ 
^^Undoubtedly; Bullen encourages them for the 
girks sake, and he enjoys the companionship of 
people of his own profession and nation. He and 
Brand are both popular in the camp. I see Brand 
with one or two of the men now and then down 
by the river, instructing them in the gentle craft.’ ^ 
^What can have become of my brother’s letter 
to Miss Tregethin?” asked Owen. 

“If it came, it must have been stopped in the 
post-office here by one of the clerks. Why not 
write yourself to the address? Tell her of Mis. 
Myrtle’s illness, and ask for an interv/iew.” 

“So I will. Say nothing to your head con- 
stable, and we will see what happens.” 

Rex touched up the mare with his whip. They 
were halfway between the town and the conton- 
ment, and had just come in sight of a small paity 
of gipsies, who were hurrying their laden animals 
toward the camp. Rex overtook them just before 
they reached the tents. He pulled up sharply, and 
his horse-keeper, at a sign from his master, ran to 


the mare^s head. At Bight of the Lumbadees th^ 
police officer had come to a sudden decision. 

^^Get down, Owen; this is an opportunity not 
to be lost.. I shall catch the scoundrels red* 
handed. Unless I am very much mistaken, they 
are carrying smuggled liquor to the camp.^^ 

As he spoke he jumped out of the cart, followed 
by his friend. The gipsies endeavoured to hurry 
their bullocks forwards, but Rex placed himself 
in front of the frightened animals. 

^^Now then, my men, let me see what you have 
got in your packs,” he said in Tamil. 

Placing their hands together they began to 
whine in chorus — 

^^Sir! sir! We are poor men only, and we are 
carrying cotton for the English soldiers to make 
pillows in their camp. Please excuse, -and let us 
go on; we are in a hurry.” 

*Tirst let me look at the cotton,” said Rex; his 
voice was even and good tempered, but had a tone 
of command in it. 

A strong young gipsp took a step forward from 
the group, and constituted himself spokesman. 

^Tf your honour will place a hand upon the bags, 
the cotton may be easily felt.” He pushed his 
animal within reach of Rex. 

^^Open the bundle,” was the reply. 

‘There is no time to open, your honour. The 
hour of the promised delivery of the cotton is 
already past, and we must hurry as fast as our 


tired bullocks can , sThere was an obstinate 
expression on the man^s face as he ^poke, and the 
words were uttered in a dogged tone of resistance, 
which roused the suspicion of the police officer 
still further. 

Unload this bullock and let me see w^hat you 
are carrying besides cotton. 

There was no movement to execute his orders 
on the part of the Lumbadees, who w^ere watching 
their spokesman in sulky silence. Rex drew" a 
knife from the pocket of his jacket, opened it 
before the gipsies w^ere aware of his intentions, 
tod severed the thongs which held the packs. As 
they fell to the ground there was a murmum of 
dismay, but none dared to interfere. Carwardine 
leaned*over one of the bags of w-ool and ripped it 
from one end to the other. The white cotton, 
released from the confining pressure of the sack, 
fell away. Rex plunged his hand into the yielding 
mass and produced a bottle of French brandy. 
There were five more bottles concealed wdth the 
first. 

‘^Caught at last!^^ he cried, as he grasped the 
arm of the young Lumbadee. 

Without a word of warning the gipsy flung him- 
self violently upon the police officer, who w"as over- 
balanced and thrown to the ground. Owen, ready 
for something of the sort, wrenched the infuriated 
Lumbadee away just as his fingers w^ere about to 
close over Rex^s throat. The Lumbadees looked 


dangerous for a moment or two. Tlien one of the' 
older men said something in gipsy language, and 
their expression changed as il by magic. Two of 
them laid restraining hands upon the rash assailant 
and held him whilst the old man spoke. 

‘‘Sir, it is all a mistake, and he has brought 
shame upon us by lifting his hand against the 
officer of the Sircar. Follow us now to the camp 
and hear what the sergeant has to say, to 'whom 
the cotton and the liquor have been sent.’’ 

“Bring that fellow along with :3mu,” replied 
Rex, as he brushed the dust from his uniform and 
got into the cart. “It is just possible that the 
sergeant may be able to clear these fellow^s of blame, 
but I shall have to punish that ^’'oung firebrand,” 
he remarked to Owen as they , dmve slovTly on, 
followed by the Lumbades and their bullocks. 

“Have you ever been attacked like that before?” 

“Never; though I have been told that the tribe 
has been grumbling at the close supervision that I 
have lately enforced. My constables have been 
stopping them on the Pondicherry road ; but some- 
how they have not been able to bring any charge 
against the Lumbadees that would make a case. 
I must let justice take its course against this young 
man. If I allow the assault to pass, the^" will take 
fresh courage and attack me in force one dajq when 
they meet me alone in the district. One has to be 
very firm and just with a half-tamed people like 
these.” 


On arrival at the camp the canteen sergeant was 
summoned to explain the situation. 

^^Are you expecting any wool to make pillows 
for the men?^^ asked Carwardine. 

The sergeant glanced from Rex to the gipsies at 
a loss for an answer. As his eye caught sight of 
the bottles of brandy, the colour mounted to his 
brow. The old Lumbadee pressed forward and 
handed him a paper. His brow cleared as he read 
its contents. 

am expecting some brandy, sir; six dozen 
for the canteen. I see that the coolies have had 
an accident with one of their packs. I hope there 
are no bottles broken.^ ^ 

Rex was slightly taken aback. ‘‘Where is the 
invoice 

The sergeant went into the tent, and returned 
with a paper which he tendered to the police officer. 
It purported to be an invoice from a native shop- 
keeper in Madras, advising the despatch of six 
dozen bottles of brandy as directed. 

“I think you will find it all right, said the 
sergeant. ^T can show you the order signed by 
Major Adamson.’’ 

“If the liquor comes from Madras, and the 
major knows all about it, I need not do anything 
more. I felt sure, when the men would not tell me 
what they were carrying, that they were smuggling 
something from French territory. Why do yoU 
have it up from Madras in this way? Surely it 


Would be quicker and cheaper to send it by rail/* 

^^We have so many breakages by rail when 
ordering from these native merchants. They 
donT know how to pack. It takes a little longer, 
but it is just as cheap to get it up b}" the Lumba- 
dees. The bottles are handed over to them without 
the trouble of packing; they bring them in their 
own way, usually packed in cotton like this, and 
we have never lost a bottle. I give them a trifle 
for the cotton-wool, as the men are glad to have 
it for pillows. 

Rex looked at the gipsies, .whose faces were 
losing the sulky look with which they had been 
overcast. 

^^You were stupid fellows not to tell me what 
you were carrying. All this trouble might have 
been saved if you had but spoken. You can go, 
but I shall bring that man before the magistrate 
for his violence. A few weeks fn jail will be a 
lesson to him.^' 

The gipsy was handed over to two police peons y 
who were on duty near the camp, with directions 
to take him to the police-station. Rex and his 
friend drove away quickly, as it was nearly lunch- 
time. 

The sergeant smiled, and then winked at the 
retreating cart. ^^A bit too hasty, young man; 
you w^onT catch them like that/' was his apos- 
trophe, as he gazed at the sun-lit cloud of dust 
that covered their retreat. Then he turned to the 


Lumbadees, who wei*e busy turning out the con- 
tents of the packs, and directed them to bring the 
brandy into the store-tent. With their assistance 
he packed it at the bottom of a large wooden case. 
Paying the old Lumbadee for the transport, he 
dismissed the men. As soon as they had departed, 
he hastily placed the cotton over the brandy. On 
the top of the cotton he put a layer of empty soda- 
water bottles. When Major Adamson looked into 
the tent the next morning, he saw nothing but a 
case half full of empties waiting to be refilled by 
Corporal Barnes, who worked the soda-water 
machine. 


CHAPTER VIL 


The time flew by quickly and pleasantly for 
Owen. Oriental life was new to him, and he found 
it full of fascinations. Following the advice of his 
friend, he went the round of the station, paying 
calls which resulted in a shower of invitations to 
tennis and dinner parties. Since he was the guest 
of her fiance, Marion Hensley was especially 
gracious, and scarcely a day passed that he did not 
find himself at the Garden House, as Mr. Hensley^s 
residence was called. Frequently, when Rex was 
detained by his work, he sent Owen off to make 
excuses for himself, and to amuse and be amused. 
His proxy proved sufficiently entertaining, and 
Miron uttered no reproaches when her busy lover 
appeared late in the day and apologetic. 

The visitors were still staying at the Garden 
House, and Owen was soon on good terms with the 
two German entomologists. They were all more 
or less idle men whose time was their own, and 
they were thus thrown together. The story of the 
lost heiress interested them, and they tendered 
much advice to the searcher, who submitted it all 
to Mirion Hensley. They were particularly urgent 
that he should pay a visit to the mine and offered 
to accompany him there. 


Rex was absorbed in his work. The trouble 
with the troops was not solved; on the contrary^ 
it increased day by da}^ rather than lessened. As 
the Lumbadees had appeared in numbers with the 
arrival of the men in camp, he drew his own 
inference from the coincidence. Before the white 
tents sprang up on the maidan Cuddalore was only 
visited now and then by the gipsies, and then they 
came by twos and threes. Now he heard of gangs 
of eighteen and twenty coming and going with 
frequency. He gave repeated orders to his subor- 
dinates concerning the necessity of watching them 
and their transport cattle; but his men failed to 
lay their hands upon a single case of smuggling 
liquor into camp. 

There is no one in the world so subject to occa- 
sional attacks of blindness as the police peon of 
Itidia. His natural instincts caused him to regard 
smuggling with lenient eyes. It is difficult to 
persuade him that it has anything to do with dis- 
honesty. From the head constable downwards, 
the carriage of contraband goods is placed in the 
category of such minor offences as drunkenness, 
trespassing, and carrying no light on the road after 
dark with a bullock-cart. Hence the anxiety of 
the police officer to catch the gipsies himself, and 
hence also his determination to prosecute the 
Lumbadee who had made the attack. His action 
had an unexpected result. 

The morning following the arrest, a lame gipsy 


tvoinan presented herself at the office and begged 
for an interview. As soon as she was admitted^ 
she fell at the feet of the police officer and implored 
his mercy. Gradually Rex gathered that she was 
the mother of the man who was in trouble. She 
was too old to work and too lame to follow the 
transport gangs. Her daughter lived with her, 
and her son supported her. If he was sent to 
prison they would both starve. But she begged 
in vain. Rex was firm in his determination to 
punish the man, and it was not without some 
difficulty that he got rid of the suppliant. He was 
sorry for her, but he would not allow his pity to 
interfere with his duty. 

Before he left the office he callixl Sobarow into 
his room and spoke to him about the necessity of 
taking decisive action with the Lumbadees. The 
head constable listened deferentially. 

^‘Why is your honour so anxiovis to convict 
he asked. ^The Lumbadees will go as suddenly 
as they came, and for years we shall have no 
further trouble. 

Rex glanced sharply in his face, but read nothing. 
His reply had a touch of impatience in it. 

^^You know the reason as well as I do, Soobarow. 
The soldiers in camp are undoubtedly obtaining 
spirit through their assistance, and the men dis- 
grace themselves by their excesses.’’ 

^Tf the gipsies carry the liquor across the 
boundary they should be stopped by the officers 


af the custom-house. It is impossible to catch 
them here.^' 

^'Why should it be so!’/ asked Rex. 

* 'Because there are people more clever than the 
gipsies at the back of the business. The Lumba- 
dees are but tools/’ was the reply. 

"Can you find out how the liquor is earned into 
the camp?” 

Soobarow remained silent a few seconds. "It 
might be possible to discover it. Your honour 
would prosecute the receivers of course?” 

"I should put the matter into the hands of the 
commanding officer, if I found that ^ soldier was 
implicated. It is against the rules to bring liquor 
into the camp except that which goes to the can- 
teen and the mess. A man caught breaking the 
rule is liable to heavy punishment.” 

"It is a difficult task that your honour has set 
us to do. The crow is a cunning bird, but it is ill 
adapted to trapping the kite. The British soldier 
has a keener vision than the, kite, where strong 
drink is concerned. But with your honour’s per- 
mission, I and my men will do our best to find out 
where the leakage is.” 

"It means reward and promotion, remember. 
The youngest man in the force shall step over his 
seniors if he can put me on the right scent. 

As he ceased speaking there was a sound of 
creaking boots outside the door and Naga entered 
with a note for his master. 


Naga, take the office-box back to the 
bungalow, and tell the butler to prepare some 
dinner for me/’ Rex said, as he placed his helmet 
upon his head. He sighed a little wearily. There 
was a couple of hours’ work in those papers, which 
the peon was carrying home* It meant that he 
would be unable to accompany his guest to a 
friend’s house where they were'ito have dined* 
When Davenport started, Rex sent a message 
to say that he would look in after dinner to apolo- 
gize for his enforced absence. 

Nine o’clock struck, arid the police officer was 
ready to walk to his destination. The light of a 
young moon, which was dropping towards its 
setting, made a lantern unnecessary. The servants 
had gone to their suppers behind the bungalow, 
and he was alone. He heard the swish of drapery 
and a footfall upon the steps of the verandah* 
^Who is there?” he asked in Tamil* 

A figure draped in a blue Lumbadee cloth came 
out of the dim moonlight, and placed herself in an 
attitude of supplication before him. 

Behind her sto^>d a large, grey Lumbadee dog, 
which sniffed the air and watched the Englishman 
with, observant ey^s. 

^^Sir! I come to ask mercy/’ crie,d the woman, 
in the language of the country. Her voice was 
gentle and denoted youth:, ‘T ask meftj for my 
brother. My mother is heart-broken. Never has 
hey son been in trouble. Ah! sir! you do not know 


how goad he has been to her, and how hard he has 
worked to keep her in comfort! Be merciful and 
forgive.’^ 

As she Si^oke she raised herself into a kneeling 
posture and lifted her face to ^lis.; Thp light from 
the lamp fell full upon it, and he had an oppor- 
tunity of studying the regular features. Her dark 
eyes looked appealingly into his. She* clasped her 
hands together arid pleaded the cause of her 
brother with still greater earnestness, whilst he 
stood silently regarding her* At length he said — 
am sorry that I cannot grant your request. 
As I told your mother, I could not let your brother 
escape punishments It is a serious offence to 
interfere with a servant of Government in- the 
execution of his duty.^’ 

know! I know! You speak but the truth, 
sir! He was wrong, and deserves punishment. 
But, for my mother’s sake, be merciful*” 


CHAPTER VIIL 

Daisy Bullen was in the verandah of her father^s 
house, On the floor sat a dirzee, his back against 
the wall, a large sheet spread in front of him, and 
laid out with patterns, materials, pins, scissors, and 
a six-months’ old fashion-book that smelt strongly 
of smoke. The tailor was putting his whole soul 
into the creation of a ball-dress, and Daisy was 
superintending. It was her first, ball-dress, and it 
was to be a diaphanous dream of white grenadine 
and pink roses. 

The sergeants and corporals of the camp had 
decided to give a dance. When Corporal Barnes 
brought the two tickets, he explained that he had 
only those at his disposal. He expressed a warm 
hope that Mr. and Miss Bullen would accept the 
invitation. Mrs. Bullen was quite content to be 
omitted. Loyal as she was to her husband’s nation, 
she would have hesitated to appear at a sergeants’ 
ball under any circumstances. If the occasion 
demanded the adoption of evening dress, her 
hesitation would have merged into a firm refusal. 

But though she was not going herself, she took 
the keenest pride in her daughter’s dress. Bullen 
had told her that no reasonable expense was to be 
spared, as probably Mr. Barnes would have some- 


thing to say to Daisy that evening. ‘^Just let the 
girl look her veiy best, Molly mor. When my 
sister was married, I remember my mother made 
everything in the house, and lor! you couldn^t 
have told but what the dress came from the best 
shop in Beccles.’^ 

Mrs. Bullen had had the standard of the un- 
known mother-in-law held before her eyes all her 
married life. She never dared to hope that she 
could emulate her husband’s mother. But she 
never ceased from endeavouring to imitate all the 
virtues that Bullen declared graced his parent. 
She did her best with the patient humility of the 
oriental woman, and was supremely happy when 
her husband told her that his own mother could 
not have done better. She spent the whole of one 
day in the bazaar, barganing with the native 
hawker over the material, and the half of another 
in the purchase of the pink roses. Then came the 
hiring of the tailor, who wanted to make it a con- 
tract job, carried out at his own house. This 
proposal brought forth a voluble outpouring on 
the part of Mrs. Bullen concerning the folly of all 
such arrangements where cutting-out had to be 
done and material might be stolen. In the end,, 
the tailor was engaged to come by the day and 
work under the eye of Miss Bullen. 

Whenever her daughter appeared in the kitchen 
or back verandah to offer her customary help in 
the house work, Mrs. Bullen sent her back to the 
dirzee with — 


“Now, Daisy girl, you just leave that for the- 
tanniketch to do. You go and look after that, 
man. Oh my! if you don’t watch him every 
minute of the day, he will bg cutting your dress 
all wrong and stealing half the stuff.” 

So Daisy, nothing loth, was living in the front 
verandah, now on a chair facing the tailor, now 
on her knees helping him to pin crumpled, much- 
worn patterns to unmanageable grenadine. Th^ 
dirzee, far from being annoyed by the supervision^ 
was full of happy importance at being the centre 
of her attention, and was endeavouring to break 
his record in the matter of “barl-dress, only.” 

“Shall I put a yem on the beyind? or shall I 
put f^arlse peese only?” he inquired, as he held up 
the train of the unfinished skirt for Daisy’s inspec- 
tion. 

As she was concentrating her mind on the 
important point, and hesitating between the 
mysterious “yem” and “farlse peese,” her small 
brother Jimmy came into the verandah.. The 
iiiterest in Daisy’s dress was not confined to herself 
and her parents. It spread through the whole 
household, extending to the two servants, the 
kitchen woman and the scullion, a merry lanky 
scamp, whose ambition was to be cook in the 
judge’s house. Even the appa woman, who 
brought the rice cakes every morning, once ven- 
tured u,nder the wing of the tanniketch to peep at 
the dirzee from behind the door with exclamations 


of wonder and admiration. The children paid 
many visits, having more time at their disposal 
than those members of the establishment who 
were engaged in the various duties which had to 
be performed in the cook-room and its vicinity, 
Jimmy, under pretence of requiring assistance in 
the buckling of his school satchel, ventured to the 
very border of the sheet. 

^^Now, look where you are going, Jimmee boy!^^ 
exclaimed Daisy, as she glanced apprehensiyely 
at his dusty shoes. 

'^Oh! that is pretty! Daisy, you will look like 
a fairy-queen. And mamma says there will be a 
beautiful supper. My! I should like to go! You 
will bring me something in your parket, wonT 
you?’’ he concluded, in a wheedling tone. 

“Hark at you, Jimmee boy! Why do you say 
parket like a native? Say porket; that’s how Mr, 
Barnes speaks. Oh my! there’s the clock striking. 
You are late for afternoon school, and the school- 
master will beat you. Run, Jimmy boy! run!’^ 
she cried, as she fastened the strap and ridded 
herself of the interruption. Falling on her knees 
to obtain closer vision, she once more centred her 
thoughts on the “yem” question. Before she 
could come to a decision her mind was once more 
diverted. This time it was the distant creaking 
of boots, 


CHAPTER IX. 


On arrival at the pier-head Rex paid the boat- 
men, hired a gharry, and drove to the club where 
he was staying. He had taken five days' casual 
leave, three of which were gone. The other two 
slipped by all too fast, and on the evening of the 
fifth he travelled up to Cuddaiore by the night 
train. 

The next morning found him absorbed in his 
work, which fortunately was always interesting, 
so much so, that it was a rare thing for him to take 
any leave. As usual with his temperament, the 
day passed without any temptation to indulge in 
vain regrets. By the broad light of the sun, aided 
by reason, he determined to forget the gipsy girl, 
and when the summer came he would go home and 
marry Marion, who was in every way suitable for 
the wife of a Government official. But at night, 
when the work of the office was put aside, his 
thoughts were not so easily controlled. He fought 
bravely against memory the first evening after his 
arrival home. On the second he was less severe 
with himself. He yielded to temptation, and 
wandered through the gateway of his compound. 
Instinctively he bent his steps towards the spot 


where he had recovered Coiisciovisness after the 
attack by the dogs. 

All was quiet, except for the murmur of the sea, 
the chirp of the grasshoppers, and the cry of the 
stray sea-bird. He looked towards the moat, and 
wondered if the boat was still lying amid stream. 
He felt inclined to ferry himself up to ^‘my lady^s 
bower, but dismissed the thought as being foolish, 
considering that he had no light. To-morrow he 
would see Brand, and ask if he would sell him the 
fittings of the chamber; his desire was that the 
room might be left intact. Then he wondered idly 
whether the girl had taken any active part in the 
smuggling which had been going on. He came to 
the conclusion that she had had no share in it. 
Her crime consisted in screening the criminals. 
And therein he was right. Brandis peculiar sense 
of honour would have been sufficient guard against 
‘^her ladyship’^ being involved in any difficulty of 
that kind. Though the old man had taken care 
that she was never without a flask of the very best 
cognac, in case of need, he had never allowed 
either her dwelling or her o^vn person to afford 
any aid in the contraband traffic. 

The identification of the Dilys on board the 
Golcondah, the Miss Tregethin of the hidden 
chamber, and the gipsy girl of the glacis, was a, 
dangerously fascinating occupation for thoughts 
that refused to be controlled. In which character 
had she been most charming? There was no doubt 


a'bout the answer. It as tlie gipsy that she 
had shown her softest moods, when she pleaded in 
vain for her foster-brother, standing under the 
wheels of his dog-cart, and when she bound his 
arm ith gentle touch and tender pity. 

Yet the memory was not without its bitterness. 
She had so manifestly played with him and amused 
herself. Now she had thrown him aside, and 
turned with the irresponsibility of a child to a new 
toy^ in the shape of his friend Owen. The hot 
blood flew to his face as the conviction forced 
itself upon him, that her treatment of him was no 
more than he deserved. It would only have com- 
plicated matter had she showed herself to be 
serious in her coquetry. He laughed, as the thought 
struck him, that it would have been odd if he had 
appropriated the heiress whom Owen had come 
out to India to seek and to marry. His laugh was 
echoed behind him in light, mocking tones. He 
started visibly, bewildered, incredulous. 

‘^Looking for the gipsy girl, Mr. Carwardfne?’^ 
nsked a well-remembered voice, ringing with 
suppressed merriment. 

He caught his breath, believing for a moment 
that imagination was playing him a trick. But it 
was no trick. There in the starlight stood the 
gipsy girl, her eyes shining with mischief and 
delight, in her maddest, merriest, most fascinating 
liiood. She was robed in the folds of a gipsy cloth, 
but her face and hands were unstained. . The 


English skin showed pearly white in the starlight, 
and the colour that lives only in the cheek of the 
European mounted to her very brow. 

Neither was it a trick of the fancy that filled in 
the next five minutes. 

*^How did you come here?^^ he asked presently, 
wonderment betraying itself in his voice. 

^^Do the girls in England leave the men they 
love when there is no need? No, a thousand times, 
no ! If you tell me that they do, I will not believe 
you. Does Miss Hensle}^ leave the man she loves 
when she sails on the broad ocean? No, a thou- 
sand times no! She takes him with her. Ah! 
Pearl of my heart,^’ she cried, dropping into the 
endearments which she had learnt in her baby- 
hood from her foster-mother. ‘‘Have no fear that 
the gods are working ill. You are mine, mine 
alone, and no one will dispute my right, least of all 
the couple sailing on the GolcondaH.’’ 

He listened, scarcely daring to believe his ears. 

^Tell me, how did you manage to leave the ship? 
Surely I saw you on board, you and your chair. 

She laughed with the glee of a mischievous child. 

“Quite right! You saw me and my chair. I 
thought that the chair would be a sufficient blind, 
if the suspicion should cross their, minds that I 
might play them the same trick that I played my 
aunt. But they were so absorbed in each other 
that I need not have troubled. It, was all disap- 


pointly easy with the help of Mr. Brand and hi^ 
old servant.’^ 

^^So he befriended you once again. 

‘‘And will do so to the end. But imagine the 
scene there must have been when I was first 
missed. The dear Beast would think that I had 
jumped overboard. Oh! I do hope they stopped 
the ship to look for me! Then they would search 
more closely in the cabin, and discover that I had 
given my berth to a poor governess from Bangalore, 
who was longing, just longing, to go back to Eng- 
land, but had not the means. Mr. Brand had the 
ticket transferred that very morning by the agents. 
Then, some time after that, they would find my 
letter, which I hid under the pillo^v in berth 122.- 
It is to Marion, and I have told her the truth, 
which she is to remember every time that she 
looks upon my empty chair. 

“And what is the truth, beloved?'^ he whispered^ 

“Light of my eyes! can you not read it for your- 
self? It is the same story that Mr. Davenport 
reads every time he looks in Marion^s eyes.^^ 

Three months later, when letters had been 
exchanged and explanations offered — which need 
not be set down here — a wedding took place at 
St. John^s, Bangalore. It was in no respect what 
might be termed a society function, and on that 
account, perhaps, no record was made of the num- 


her of bridesmaids, nor of the presents, nor o^ the , 
dresses worn on the occasion. Yet the bride was ’ 
young, beautiful, and wealthy, and the bridegroom 
held a responsible position in the Indian Police 
Force. 

After the ceremony there was a reception in the 
garden of the little bungalow standing on the edge 
of the platean. The golden sunlight and quiyering 
blue haze still glorified the wide expanse of boul- 
ders, cactus and green fields in that region of 
perpetual summer. 

The wedding party was hot large, but . it in- 
cluded a strange gathering of guests. Conspicuous 
amongst them was Mrs. Myrtle, lately arrived with 
her husband from England. She wore a magnifi- 
cent toilette, which reflected dignity and honour 
upon the bride. She was her nearest relative, and 
though aged and enfeebled by a long illness, she 
was beaming with happiness. Her triumph in,;^ 
having found her niece, and her pride in the mar-, “ 
riage, gave her new life. She was consoled by the . 
thought that the strange caprice and wilfulness of 
her niece — all the result of her brother's folly in 
trusting his daughter to the care of a wild tribe of 
gipsies — might have led to disastrous results. 

Another guest, less apparent, but none the les^ 
joyful, was an old, lame gipsy woman, tearful and 
smiling, apologetic and affectionate, proud yet 
humble, who remained in the back verandah or 
hovered round the door of the bride’s dressing- 


room. Occasionally she was overcome by fits of 
intense shyness, when she took refuge behind the 
portly person of Mrs. Bullen, whom she addressed 
as Ranee, much to that lady^s gratification. 

Mrs. Bullen, in a new silk cloth and purple satin 
skirt, was resplendent with jewels. Not content 
with her own, she had borrowed right and left^ 
until her ample person was a pyramid of ^ ^bar- 
baric pearl and gold/’ A seat of honour had been 
provided for her in the little drawing-room, from 
whence at a distance she could watch the festivi- 
ties in the garden. When the wedding cake was 
out she was not forgotten, and a cup of fragrant 
coffee took the place of champagne ^ Daisy, smil- 
ing and happy in a white silk dress, far exceeding 
in splendour the ‘^barl-dress” of grenadine, acted 
the part of bridesmaid. She played her part with 
grace, and many ejaculations of ‘‘Oh! my! now,” 
when she was lied upon to hold the gloves and 
boquet of the bride. Poor little Daisy had not 
been without her share of trouble. The sudden 
departure of the regiment prevented Barnes from 
paying the momentous visit, which was to have 
been made the morning aftr the ball. Then came 
rumohrs of Moplah obstinacy and fanaticism, with 
the death of one or two men in the corps. Sleepless 
nights were passed, and many tears were shed 
whilst Bullen in his old age looked on at a new 
aspect of war which had never before been pre-^ 
serited to his view. ‘That fare a harder job to 


have to sit here and listen to her sobs than eveir 
that was to hear the bullets a-whizzing about my 
head/' he confided to Brandy. But the clouds 
rolled by in a .few weeks. Order was restored 
amongst the Moplahs, and the regiment returned 
to Bangalore. Bullen, at Brand's suggestion, fol- 
lowed it. The young Bullens were requiring a 
better school than Cuddalore offered, and Daisy's 
happiness hung on the renewal of relations with 
the gallant corporal, now promoted to be sergeant. 

Foremost in the revels was the host, John Elton 
Brand, Esq., who also played the part of “father" 
to the bride. A black frock coat, a pair of grey 
trousers, and a silk hat made him a formidable 
rival in appearance to the bridegroom himself. 
When^he was first asked to take such an important 
part in the ceremony, the old man was over- 
whelmed with pride and modesty. Mr. Myrtle was 
the proper person, he said, to fill that position. 
But that complacent individual was more than 
content to waive all right to the honour; and when 
the bride renewed her request, Brand was almost 
moved to tears. 

“After being such a traitor! Your ladyship is 
too kind!" 

With glistening eye he at length consented, and 
having done so he realized that he was about to 
arrive at the proudest moment of his life. 

In behaviour and courtliness of manner John 
Elton Brafid, JEsq.,A Surpassfed,himl^elf, whilst his 


faithful factotum, Ramaswamy, in a turban that 
looked like an abnormally large turnip, excelled 
all past efforts in the serving of champagne and 
cake. 

The company had gathered round the bride with 
brimming glasses, waiting for the toast. Brand 
stepped forward, glass in hand to give it. He spoke 
affectionately, but deferentially of her ladyship, 
and expressed his satisfaction in seeing how her 
ftiends had rallied round her. Whilst he spoke he 
rested one hand on his hip, pushing aside the frock 
coat, so that the grey trousers might be brought 
into view in all their splendour. ' In the other hand 
he held his glass of champagne, which now and 
then he raised, and gracefully waved before him 
to emphasize his words. 

‘‘Ladies and gentlemen,’^ he concluded, “I am 
am going to ask you to drink the health of the 
bride and bridegroom in this excellent champagne 
— it is not Lumbadee borne, sir, I assure you;’' 
this as an aside to the bridegroom. “I must re-^ 
mind you, ladies and gentlemen, that when we 
give our love and friendship to a lady, we give it 
also to those whom she may love. There ^ no 
knowing with the fair sex how strange the objects 
of their love may be; but whatever they are, as 
men and gentlemen, we are bound to respect their 
choice. Her ladyship has chosen the police. From 
henceforth we must follow the police, and work 
with, and not against, the arm of the law. I ask 


you all to drink to the happiness of Mr» and Mrs. 
Garwardine.^' 

A chorus of cheers, led by S,ergeant Barnes, 
followed the words, and under cover of the noise, 
Bullen turned to Daisy, who was thinking of a 
future similar ceremony which was drawing near, 
and said — 

“Now, wasn^t that a rare old masterpiece! 
What I always say about Mr. Brand is, that he is 
such a gentleman.’^ 


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